Isle of the Lost (Descendants 1)

A huge, gaily-dressed crowd of courtiers and servants and guests assembled in a beautiful throne room around them. There were two good fairies hovering above the cradle, their wands making beautiful sparkles in the air. It was all so sweet, it was sickening.

Mal had never seen anything like it, not up close like this. Not in some kind of insipid storybook.

What is this?

Why am I seeing this?

Then a green ball of fire appeared in the middle of the room, and when it dispersed, Mal saw a familiar face.

Her mother.

Tall, haughty, beautiful, and scorned. Maleficent was angry. Mal could feel the cold heat rising from her very being. She stared at her mother.

Maleficent addressed the crowd gathered around the royal family.

“Ah, I see everyone has been invited. The royalty, nobility, the gentry, and the rabble. I must say, I really felt quite distressed at not receiving an invitation.”

What was her mother talking about? Then Mal realized. Maleficent had not been invited to Aurora’s christening. Mal had never known this was the reason her mother hated parties and celebrations of all kinds.

But she knew exactly how her mother felt.

The hurt.

The shame.

The anger.

The desire for revenge.

Mal had felt exactly the same thing, hadn’t she? When Evil Queen had thrown her party for Evie, all those years ago and kept her out?

Mal watched as her mother cursed the baby Princess Aurora to sleep a hundred years if she pricked her finger even once on a spindle. It was some fine spellcraft, and Mal was proud of her mother’s efficiency, her power, her simple rendering. One prick of one finger could bring an entire royal house crashing down. It was a beautiful, terrible destiny. Well-woven. Deeply felt.

Mal was proud of Maleficent. She always had been, and she always would be. Maleficent had raised her daughter alone, and gotten by as best she could. If only because there was no one else to do it.

But her mother was made for Evil; she was good at it.

And in that very moment, and for the very first time, Mal finally understood that it wasn’t just pride that she felt. It was pity. Maybe even compassion.

She was sad for her mother—and that was something new.

The crowd saw a monster, a terror, a devil, a witch, cursing a beautiful princess. But Mal saw only a hurt little girl, acting out of spite and anger and insecurity.

She wanted to reach out and tell Maleficent it would be all right. She wasn’t sure it was true, but they’d somehow gotten along this far, hadn’t they?

It’ll be all right, Mother.

She had to tell her.

But she woke up before she could.

Mal blinked her eyes open. She was in the throne room at the Forbidden Fortress. Jay, Carlos, and Evie were standing around her nervously.

When she had fallen asleep she had been holding the Dragon’s Eye scepter in her hand. But when she woke up, it was nowhere to be seen.

“You’re awake! But you’re supposed to be asleep for a thousand years!” cried Evie. “How?”

Mal rubbed her eyes. It was true—she was awake. She wasn’t cursed. Why was that? Then she realized.